Arisen
by Kermit's Rainbow Connection
Summary: Nimueh has been resurrected from the grave and has one goal in mind. She will have Merlin by her side, he is too great of an asset to be lost, and too much of a liability to be an enemy. After all, he was clever enough and powerful enough to be the man that murdered her. And that fact alone increases her lust for him. Pairings: Merlin/Nimueh and Merlin/Morgana.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there! This idea wouldn't stop bugging me, and I thought I should write it out. Unfortunately, the results for the poll I took on which Merlin story to write first ended out being a tie, and I couldn't wait any longer to write so this is one of the stories that was in the tie. I will be writing the chapter of the other story shortly. By the way, this takes place in between The Coming of Arthur Part 2 and The Darkest Hour Part 1. **

**Chapter One **

Morgana gritted her teeth as she pulled the ever heavy wagon behind her; the wood pricking at her skin no doubt to cause endless, painful blisters to form on her already worn hands. Her black dress sagged on the dirt road; the seams being ripped apart and torn into pieces by being rolled upon by the wheels, dwindling away in the faintly present wind. The sun blazed upon her tattered and tangled dark hair. Oh, how had she come to this? Once a lady, a queen! A rightful queen did not deserve to live in these sad, filthy conditions. She would rise again soon, she promised herself every waking minute that she would. It was the only thing to live for now.

Her sister lay asleep in the wagon. She would have almost looked peaceful, if not for the jagged scar that marred the right side of her face. Morgause was wrapped in a dark brown cloak for warmth, and her blonde curls rested on her chest. The High Priestess did not deserve to be handicapped, to be dragged around in a dirty wagon for the rest of her days. Morgana would see to it that Merlin would pay for the many crimes he did unto her sister.

They had traveled many, many miles far from Camelot. It had been three months since their plans went to ruin, and from what Morgana heard the people were enjoying the prosperous age that the newly appointed reagent Prince Arthur had bestowed upon them, a fact she cursed. She and Morgause had escaped the Throne Room after its collapse, and it had seemed that all was lost. Until a sorcerer by the name of Borin had sent word to them by a messenger boy to meet him and his pack to the outskirts of King Meridon's kingdom, where they would be welcomed graciously.

At first, Morgana had refused the offer, saying they were fine on their own and at that point the only person she felt she could trust and confide in was her sister. But, he then mentioned in his letter that he could help them win back the kingdom that rightfully belonged to her, saying it would be an honor. She had accepted his invitation only then, and it was for that reason that she was traveling in the secluded wastelands that bordered King Meridon's kingdom. The journey had been long, and extremely tiring, but they were nearing their destination. She approached a relatively young man with a rugged beard who was leaning on a pole for supporting, resting.

"Excuse me, my good Sir," she addressed him, "Are you among the pack of a man called Borin?"

He asked gruffly, "What's it to you?"

"I have been invited here. I am the Lady Morgana; a High Priestess of the Old Religion and the former and rightful Queen of Camelot. I am assuming that his camp is ahead. May I pass?"

"Oh yes, the lassie Borin has been raving about. Yeah, straight ahead, can't miss it, _my Lady_," he mocked. Morgana scowled at the insolent fool and knocked him against his blasted pole, smirking in satisfaction when she observed a light stream of blood trickling from his temple.

The camp, as she drew nearer, was quite simple and modest. There were several tents set up in the formation of a circle, a fire was crackling in the center, and three men surrounded it talking to each other. Hopefully this sorcerer Borin knew exactly who he was dealing with, for his own good. The men looked up as soon as they had noticed that they had approaching company, and only silence filled the air as she walked up to the campfire and lowered the wagon to rest upon the wheels. Morgana smiled warmly as she glanced back to the wagon where Morgause was awakening from her slumber.

"The Lady Morgana. You truly are more beautiful than any bounty in the five kingdoms," a man claimed. He was young as well, for they all seemed rather youthful, his brunette hair was neatly trimmed along with his beard, and he wore a white tunic and brown trousers. He displayed his charm further by reaching for her hand and gently placed his lips upon it. It was a courtesy that none had given to her since she had taken over the throne. Morgana fondly remembered those nights where the knights would advance to where she was seated during a feast and chat her up; offering a glass of wine and the most thrilling night any woman in Camelot would ever remember. But she had given up that life long ago.

"High Priestess Morgause. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. It is a shame fate has not been kind to you," he then said to Morgause. Her sister smiled with bitter sweetness in acknowledgement.

Morgana announced, "I presume you are Borin, the sorcerer who sent word for us. You have promised me a victory. Do not fail me when we have not yet begun."

"I see, straight to point. I like women who are like that. No awkward and unnecessary chatter. Please, be seated. You must be tired from your long journey out here to the wastelands. Please forgive me; I thought it to be the only safe place to meet."

"May I confess to you that as you are speaking all I am hearing from you is idle chatter," she countered tersely. He blushed slightly in embarrassment and sat down next to her. She was beginning to lose faith in this man who she was previously confident in.

"I have come across a spell in my travels; one I know will bring Camelot to their knees," Borin began. Morgana grinned.

"Please, do go on," she encouraged, now intrigued.

"There is one woman who is capable of bringing Camelot down, and I believe if you ever want to see your kingdom again, you must seek her help. Her name is Nimueh."

Morgana gazed up at Morgause as her eyes suddenly lit up in interest and yet confusion. For these past three months, her sister's face had remained mostly blank. It had killed a little part within her to see her sister so weak, so hopeless. She used to always have that certain gleam when planning to destroy Camelot. It seemed that only now had it returned.

"This man speaks of lies. We cannot seek help from Nimueh, she is dead. She lies with the Triple Goddess in peace," Morgause asserted. Morgana glared at him and enchanted a knife to fly up right to his neck, the tip resting where his Adam's apple was.

"Please, let me explain," he spluttered out in panic.

"I am tired of explanations. You have led us here under false pretenses, but I swear to you, you will sorely regret ever having done so."

Borin slowly stated, "I know a way to return the great Nimueh from her grave."

"Why should this Nimueh matter to us? You claim that she is capable of bringing Camelot down, then why hadn't she done so when she was alive? I have never heard of her before this night. And what makes you think that _only_ with _her_ will we be able to win? _I_ have won the kingdom once and _I_ shall do it again. Speak! It may be your last chance to save yourself," she demanded.

"My Lady, I will be dead and gone within the hour. Just please listen to me. Nimueh would have invaded Camelot, had it not been for her untimely death five years ago. She was a High Priestess of the Old Religion as well. There are always meant to be three High Priestesses, for the three Goddesses who represent the Triple Goddess. The balance has been unstable for twenty years, ever since the Great Purge. And if you and your sister should die, perhaps in attempting to regain Camelot, who will pass down the knowledge of the Old Ways? If there are no High Priestesses who serve the Old Religion then the Old Ways will surely die out. We must preserve and protect the ways of the Old Religion; that is the price we must pay for the gifts it has granted us. I am truly insignificant in this matter, only for the fact that I must make the ultimate sacrifice."

Morgana looked up imploringly at her sister, seeking for the right answer. She had not done this in some time, but this man and his claims were questionable.

"He is right. The balance has been unstable for some time. I was fortunate when I found you Morgana, I thought I would be the last High Priestess there ever was. We must restore the balance. I thank you Borin, for your sacrifice for our cause."

"What does he mean, 'sacrifice'? Sacrifice what?" she inquired.

"In order for a life to be given a life must be taken in return. That is the rule of the Old Religion. I believe Borin intends to sacrifice his life in return for our lost High Priestess," Morgause explained calmly.

"Yes, I do, High Priestess. It would be an honor. However, this ritual is complicated. It takes a very ancient incantation, a medallion once possessed by one of the High Priests of Old, and a sacrifice in order to work. Luckily, I have acquired both the spell necessary and the medallion needed."

Borin pulled from around his neck indeed a large, round medallion, but other than size it wasn't really impressive. The material itself looked as though it had been made from cheap clay, but the intricate designs in the center were no doubt markings of the Old Religion.

"The medallion may not look impressive now, but it soon will. You must have this around my neck as you sacrifice my life. Once Nimueh rises from the lake, you must put the medallion around her neck. If it is broken, stolen, then all hope is lost and she will die. But as long as the medallion remains around her neck, she will live forevermore. If you try to use the medallion to make yourselves immortal, it will not work. My sacrifice will be attached to that medallion, my sacrifice for _her_ life, so the medallion will only work for her. We must ride out, to the Lake Vita Mortis. It is just within the borders of King Meridon's kingdom," Borin declared while his men fetched two horses.

"Are you able to ride the horse, Sister?" Morgana asked with concern.

"I believe I am able," Morgause replied.

One of Borin's men eased Morgause up to the back of the saddle and afterwards Morgana climbed upon the front of the horse, pulling on the reigns and following Borin. The journey was not long, half an hour at most. And there it laid, Lake Vita Mortis, in its stunning beauty yet sorrowful surroundings. Plants and tiny flowers coated the surface of the water, and yet ground on which they walked was blackened as if scorched by a monstrous blaze of fire that swept and killed everything within its path.

Borin laid himself near the lake, sliding his eyelids over his eyes, and folded hands on his chest in a formal manner. Morgana kneeled next to him, holding a knife just slightly above his chest while she practiced in her head the spell that Borin had taught her on their way there.

"Are you ready?" she questioned. She thought she should have the decency to ask.

"I am at peace. Before I go though, I must request something. I find that this is the coward in me asking this. May you make my passing swift? If I am to die, than I should not want to linger in this world in agony before I depart to the Afterlife."

"I shall try. _Ego promissum proventus is ea id vita enim tui. Cresco ab illis aqua profundum atque vagari occasus terra olim magis_."

Her magic swelled within herself, surrounding her in such a way she had never imagined. The knife wavered over his chest. Morgana always thought of how to make the killing of people most painful or most efficient. This was different. This was a mercy killing, a sacrifice; he was dying in the name of the High Priestesses. She pierced the knife through Borin's heart. He let out a slight gasp in pain, but his eyes never opened as he slipped in the arms of Death.

What attracted her eyes was not the blood seeping from his wound in the process staining his tunic a bright crimson; it was the medallion he bore around his neck. The round object glowed golden, and upon inspecting it Morgana found it was of actual gold. She could have mistaken the process for alchemy, but Old Ways did not steep that low. As she smoothed the big pendant in her hands, she could distantly hear the voice of her sister who sat atop her horse.

"Look to the water, Sister. It has begun. She has arisen."

She had been so mesmerized by the medal, realization only dawned upon her moments later that the procedure had begun. Quickly, she darted to the lake, outstretching the emblem to the emerging figure from Lake Vita Mortis. Nimueh wore what looked like a dark red dress and her brown braids scarcely touched her shoulders. The sorceress spoke nothing as she approached Morgana, only lowering her head. Morgana placed the medallion around her neck.

"Welcome, Nimueh, High Priestess of the Old Religion. We are one of the same," Morgana greeted with a slick smile.

"I thank thee, my Lady, for what you have done for me," Nimueh thanked as she stepped out of the lake. "I understand that you require my help. That can be…arranged. But if anything is to be done, then we must work fast. Precious time is slipping and there is something—no, someone I must attend to first."

"Camelot must be mine, you must understand that. I have worked far too long, sacrificed far too much to be denied my request. Please, we are both Priestesses. I can and I will return the Old Ways back to the kingdom. I must win Camelot, and fast, before Arthur is crowned King," Morgana pleaded as Nimueh headed towards the horses.

"I promise you will have your victory, my Lady. I will make you Queen. But first I must seek an unlikely ally, one whom with a little persuasion will help me make you Queen. He is the most powerful sorcerer to have ever walked the Earth," Nimueh proclaimed.

Morgana interrogated, "Who is this sorcerer you speak of?" Nimueh smiled.

"I shall show you. I see now that you are not alone. Morgause, it has been many years since I have seen you. How long does it take to travel from here to the Isle of the Blessed?" the sorceress questioned Morgause upon spotting her.

"It has taken us three months to arrive here," Morgause responded.

Nimueh shook her head commanding, "We will be wasting time if we ride on horseback. Each of you, take one of my hands." She extended both her right and left hands which both Morgana and Morgause grasped. "_Accipio nobis ad occasus Andron ab occasus Beatus._"

A wind swirled and spun about them, the lake and forest no longer visible. Soon, the winds died down and they were surrounded by an abandoned, ruined castle. Chunks of crumbled stone lay scattered among the grass, the sky looked overcast, and the breeze stirred an unnatural feeling of numbness and cold within Morgana making her wish she was back at Borin's camp sitting by the warm fire.

Morgause struggled to stand, and Morgana rushed to her side to assist her, slinging one of her arms around her shoulder.

"Do you know where she has taken us?" she whispered into her ear.

"The Isle of the Blessed," her sister answered. Nimueh beckoned for them to follow her. They hobbled into the castle, being led into the caves underground, the only feature of it being a scrying fount. The sisters walked over to the fount as Nimueh uttered her spell.

"_Demonstro me quisnam ego orexis. Demonstro me Merlin._"

Morgana's eyes shot back up to Nimueh, alarmed at the last word she had heard. Merlin. That name was unmistakable, that was not a word of the Old Religion. What on earth did Merlin have to do with what they were trying to achieve other than the fact that _somehow_ he foiled her plans every single time? The water in the scrying fount had been almost blurred, but it cleared revealing the image of the very servant boy, by Arthur's side in the lower town carrying a basket of laundry of all things.

"What does _Merlin_ have to do with any of this?" she demanded.

"Everything. _This_ is the greatest sorcerer to have ever walked the earth. _This_ is the sorcerer who will help you become Queen. And _this_ is man who murdered me."

**A tad suspenseful; ended it on cliffhanger (sorry guys!). I hope everyone was in character and everything, crossing my fingers here. It was a bit hard to write Nimueh at first but it was extremely hard to write Morgause post season three, and I wrote this chapter all in one day. Borin was a charming sorcerer who was devoted the Old Religion and would do whatever it would take to save it, even if it cost him his own life. I hope I wrote his character well enough. But obviously, he's not coming back. He's kind of dead now.**

**By the way as for the spells, I actually used Latin for the language for the Old Religion and I used an online English to Latin dictionary. If you do take Latin, you'll probably find a bunch of grammatical errors in the parts where I do use Latin but like I said before it was **_**online dictionary**_**. But I have the translations here to what the spells actually meant, if you were curious. **

"_**Ego promissum proventus is ea id vita enim tui. Cresco ab illis aqua profundum atque vagari occasus terra olim magis." **_**means **_**"I offer up this life for yours. Arise from your watery depths and roam the earth once more." **_

"_**Accipio nobis ad occasus Andron ab occasus Beatus." **_**literally means **_**"Take us to the Isle of the Blessed." **_

"_**Demonstro me quisnam ego orexis. Demonstro me Merlin." **_**means **_**"Show me who I desire. Show me Merlin." **_

**The lake in the chapter **_**Lake Vita Mortis**_** was of my own creation literally meaning in Latin **_**Lake Life Death**_**. I know, it's a pretty stupid concept. Life would emerge from the lake itself, but the forest surrounding it is where the people would die. The concept in the description of the place that the lake was so alive since life came out, but the forest surrounding it seemed so dead because the blood of many had been shed there.**

**For any of you who were interested (I'm guessing none, but oh well) that's what meant. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this so far and please review! **__


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Wow, thanks for all the feedback, it really makes my day and I wasn't expecting that much for the first chapter. By the way, thanks to Dawn Ruthless for pointing out that the Old Religion language is actually old English and not Latin. I had no idea what to use for the spells in the first chapter, so I thought I should use some foreign language that isn't around anymore. Just for consistency's sake, I'm probably going to keep on using Latin but thanks for pointing that out to me. **

**Chapter Two **

Morgana stared wide eyed at Nimueh, as though the woman had completely lost her mind.

"Impossible. Simply impossible. The very idea of Merlin having magic is ludicrous! Even if he did have magic, Merlin has done nothing but ruin my plans time after time! If he truly was a creature of magic he would be helping me overthrow Uther and bring a reign of magic back to Camelot," she reasoned. Nimueh only shook her head with a slight chuckle.

"What? What exactly is so funny?" Morgana demanded sharply.

"Did you honestly believe you were the _only _person of magic lurking within Camelot's walls? Many have not heeded to Uther's laws; you and Merlin are among that group whether you realized it or not. A disguise is necessary to keep your head on shoulders as you well know. Who would have ever suspected that the king's loving ward would turn on him with magic? Well, who would ever suspect that the prince's bumbling manservant would ever have magic at all? He's obviously kept the disguise up very well, considering you never noticed."

She protested, "Proof it to me. Proof me that I am wrong."

"Of course, my Lady," the High Priestess replied with a smug smile.

Nimueh stirred her hand in the scrying fount blurring the image of Merlin and Arthur in the lower town until the water returned to its clear coloration. The water rippled once more revealing another image of Merlin that Morgana had trouble resisting the urge to scream in fury at. It was Ealdor, the day Kanan and his men tried to attack the small village all those years ago. Merlin and his friend Will stood side by side while the servant boy lowered his hand uttering what was no doubt the language of the Old Religion. His eyes flashed gold. _His eyes flashed gold_.

An abnormal windstorm arose from the depths of the earth and swept every enemy singlehandedly away from scrawny town until only Kanan was left. How had she not noticed it before? There she was in the scrying fount embracing Gwen in a tight hug, not questioning where or how the miraculous windstorm was conjured! Morgana could not fight it anymore. In her rage her green eyes glowed golden and the very structure of the cave started to rumble; pieces of the cavern's ceiling fell, and upon crashing on the rocky floor crumbled to dust.

"Sister! Control yourself!" Morgause yelled. At the sound of her voice, Morgana's irises resumed to their natural green color and the threat of a potential cave-in ceased.

"I assume you remember that day? Only now do you see it differently," Nimueh stated in satisfaction.

She gritted out, "I'm sorry for that slight… outburst. I don't know what came over me."

"All is well, my Lady. You have seen the truth for yourself. But now, we must take a course of action. That is not the first time Merlin has used magic nor has it been the last, I am sure. And if we do invade Camelot, he poses a strong threat to our plans of ever succeeding. How do you think that so many sorcerers who have attempted to siege Camelot have been dispatched so easily? Merlin is Camelot's guardian, its protector. However if he is taken out of play; Uther and Arthur do not stand a chance," The High Priestess explained.

Morgause declared, "Then he must die. Even if he is a creature of the Old Religion he has betrayed, forsaken, and disgraced its name by serving and protecting the Pendragons. If he stands in our way, then we must take him out play. His demise is something I should have ensured long ago."

Nimueh gazed at her with a devious smirk that both defied her sister's logic but also expressed that she had a trick up her sleeve, one that they could not possibly imagine. Morgana was wary to trust this woman, for she could not tell whether she was really allied with them or was seeking her own goals through them.

But she was powerful indeed, powerful enough not to be tested, and while her magic startled her, it rekindled a faith within Morgana. A faith that there was the potential of that _magnificent_ crown in all its glory had a chance to rest upon her head once more and her to be seated at her throne, dictating laws that would benefit all of magical kind. A _true_ prosperous reign, not the false utopia that the people believed they were living in under Arthur's rule. The voice of the same High Priestess she pondered over in her mind snapped her out of her thoughts.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind. We cannot kill Merlin. His fate has written since the dawn of time itself, none of us can change that. Merlin's perception of his destiny, of his true great purpose in this world, has been clouded and damaged unfortunately by many of his kin. Of _our_ kin. They believe that Merlin will bring a prosperous age where magic will be practiced freely in all of the five kingdoms, under the reign of Arthur Pendragon. I believed this to be true as well, for some time. However I have reached the conclusion that Arthur's judgment and perception about magic has been too impaired by Uther's for a change in the laws of Camelot to ever to brought about, even with the guidance of Merlin. As the prophecy states, Merlin and Merlin alone will be able to unite the five kingdoms under a rule of magic. We must use Merlin to our advantage; his powers are far too great to be wasted."

"You are suggesting that Merlin will help me become queen? That cause is hopeless, unattainable! Merlin is resolute is his beliefs. Merlin's loyalties lie with Arthur now and forevermore, _nothing_ can change that. You could call them as good as brothers. He would die before betraying him," Morgana argued.

"You forget, Sister. You had strong ties with the boy before. Perhaps, with some influence, that can be renewed," Morgause countered. Morgana could not believe this.

"Look at what he has done to you, to us! You are crippled because of him, he poisoned me, and he murdered Nimueh! He has done nothing but hinder our plans, and has condemned us to a fate of wallowing in misery for eternity! Merlin could swear allegiance to me a thousand times and I would not accept it. Not after what he has done," she objected fiercely.

"Crimes can be pardoned, can they not? We all have blood on our hands, we have all committed sins we would rather not confess. You could have the most powerful sorcerer on your side, and we would no doubt claim victory. I understand your personal reasons for opposing this. But we would not even need an army with him on our side. The four most formidable sorcerers and sorceresses. Camelot would not stand a chance," Nimueh defended.

"And what if he refuses to join us? Why should we not kill him, if he is beyond the point of reasoning?" Morgana questioned.

"To kill him, right then and there before we take over Camelot… to him it would be a gift, a blessing, a safe passage into a far better world for him. He would not have to see Camelot's destruction, the death of his beloved master. If he accepts our offer, then he will be forgiven for his crimes unto us. If he refuses, he deserves the ultimate revenge; one where he will writhe in agony as he sees his hopes, his dreams, his family burn and die before him. And he: powerless to do anything about it. My Lady, you _will _be queen. And you will have your deserved retribution whether it be that the unfortunate prince will have his servant snatched from under him, only to see him used as a weapon of annihilation against the kingdom he has long desired to rule; or Merlin will rue the day he ever used his magic against us."

Morgana felt a wonderful, roguish smile play on her lips; her eyes gleamed in delight in the faint light that was present in the cave.

"It is unfortunate, High Priestess Nimueh, that we have not met sooner," she remarked.

"Agreed, my Lady."

OoO

Merlin found that sleep was not as inviting to him as it usually was, which admittedly was rather disappointing since Arthur had ordered the previous evening that they were to start hunting at dawn. The servant made his master very aware of the fact that he highly protested this practice of slaying animals for sport, but it seemed that by doing that he had fueled the prince's desire to do so _even more so_.

He had been in the lower town that afternoon with Arthur, carrying a load of laundry while he listened to his friend's incessant ramblings about Guinevere, speeches, and land disputes till the point where Merlin was only following half of the conversation. As he had been dozing off, he had sensed a presence of magic in the air so very potent. It was distant, not very near to Camelot, but was not a comfortable distance away that Merlin hoped it would be. Nevertheless, it had bothered him the rest of the day.

His thoughts led him to suspect Morgana. He wouldn't be surprised. While many had presumed her dead, he was among the few that doubted she really was another tally on the casualty list. Merlin almost wished that she would just make her move already, so that the fear and anticipation would stop digging into his nerves similar to the sensation that a cat's claws would create on any given surface.

Three months and—nothing. Not a single threat, report, or any sign that the sorceresses existed anymore. Until now. He had been beginning to grow accustomed to a life where he didn't have to fret about Morgana's antics. Then there was the slightest shift in the wind, and just as the seams of his sanity had begun to sew themselves back together; someone tore at them furiously, trying in a fit of rage to undo the perfected stitching and there he was again on the edge, just waiting for some magic-related peril to terrorize Camelot.

"_You mustn't dwell on these things." _a voice whispered in his head with a soothing tone,_ "You are safe. Camelot is safe. Sleep." _And when had that ever been true? Camelot, safe? The idea wasn't so prosperous, he thought. That's all he hoped for Camelot's future. To be safe from harm. Arthur on the other hand was a completely different matter. In all Merlin's years of serving the royal the dream that Arthur could protect himself never came true, and in the warlock's experience he didn't believe that it would happen anytime soon. He supposed that the voice was his conscience ebbing away at him to fall asleep, which he was more than happy to comply with.

_A forest so dead yet a glimpse of life still remained, within a lake. Morgana was there, along with Morgause. A young man lay on the blackened forest ground; Morgana knelt beside him, a knife hovering above the man's chest. A few indistinguishable exchanges were given, and then the blade pierced where his heart was, and he was gone from the world of the living. It was queer though, for suddenly the medallion around the man's neck glowed golden, Merlin had not noticed it beforehand. Morgana caressed it in her hands, but jumped up within a second, rushing over to the lake. A figure approached her. Unlike all the other of the people her image was hazy, but he could definitely tell she was a woman. She lowered her neck. Morgana placed the medallion around her neck. She lifted her face and only then did her image become clear. This woman was no stranger, no, he knew this woman very well from many years ago. The woman he had put an end to. And it was almost as if she was smiling directly at him. Nimueh. _

Merlin awoke from his dream with a start, cold sweat caked his face and the sheet on his bed was mangled, undoubtedly caused by his unconscious thrashing throughout the night. The light from his window blinded his eyes for a few moments, and he arose from his bed to close the curtains over it. Light? That meant it was dawn. Past dawn, technically speaking. It was past dawn and he was still in his bedroom. _Arthur was going to kill him_.

Merlin darted from his room, stopping to tie his neckerchief around his neck and picked up an apple along the way, and frantically dashed throughout the castle until he reached Arthur's room, not bothering to knock on the door before entering, as usual.

"Merlin, how_ good_ of you to join us," Arthur greeted with a sarcastic tone. The prince was already dressed wearing a leather jacket over his tunic and was fully equipped with a crossbow. Gwen slipped out from the corner of the room where she had obviously been collecting Arthur's laundry since she held a basket full of it.

"It's okay, Merlin. You were probably tired from running all those errands for Arthur and Gaius yesterday, so this morning I took care of Arthur for you. Good luck on your hunting trip," she said and walked out of the room through the open doors.

"Wow, you've learned to dress yourself. Finally, you're showing the signs of becoming a great king," the servant mocked with a sly smirk.

"Shut up, Merlin. You've delayed the trip by half an hour because of your tardiness and the knights are already waiting outside on the courtyard. Let's go," Arthur lectured and practically stormed out of the bedroom.

The knights, as Arthur had mentioned, were already prepared and were seated upon their horses, waiting for the arrival of their prince and his servant. Surprisingly enough, Gaius was there too, probably just to see Merlin off. The warlock climbed on his mare clumsily, and the knights laughed in amusement at his struggle. Gaius wandered over to where his horse was.

"Gaius, I have a funny feeling about this trip. I felt a presence of magic yesterday, it's probably Morgana," he whispered into the physician's ear.

"Well then, you had better be on your guard, for your sake and Arthur's. Her magic has most likely grown stronger through these past three months. I will see you this afternoon," Gaius confessed but patted him lightly on the shoulder for good luck.

Merlin smiled in acknowledgement and soon rode off with the other knights, headed towards the east where Arthur was sure big game would be lurking about. Little did they know that one of their hunting party would not be returning that afternoon.

**Nimueh's sinister plan has been revealed, and what does this mean for Merlin? Will he accept or decline? And what will result of this hunting trip? You can only imagine, until I post the next chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, I'm back! Sorry, I was on vacation for a week, and had no access to a computer. Believe me, it sucked. I was just sitting on the beach and while everyone else in my family was swimming in the waves; I was thinking about plot devices for my different stories and how I really wished I had a laptop right then and there to work on. **

**By the way, just addressing this because some people were confused, the main pairing for this is Merlin/Nimueh with a **_**little**_** bit of Mergana, but not too much. Anyway, since I've bored you enough with this author's note, on with the chapter! **

**Chapter Three**

After an hour of nothing but riding, the servant felt quite sore. According to Arthur, the game they had noticed beforehand wasn't satisfactory to his desires; so they had continued on, and the likelihood that they would find anything in the forest seemed dismal.

"We spotted _three_ rabbits, _and_ a deer, but you totally ignored them. What are you expecting; a pack to just come rushing out into the clearing inexplicably?" Merlin asked.

"Maybe that would happen Merlin if you didn't keep scaring the animals off," the prince retorted in an irritated manner, harshly jerking at his reins commanding his horse to take the lead of the group.

Gwaine moved his horse slightly towards Merlin's whispering, "Don't worry, Princess is just in one of his foul moods today. He has to write and present a speech to council about the aqueduct system." The warlock nodded in understanding, now pitying his friend for the future bore he would have to drawl out to the pretentious council members for at least twenty minutes.

His wandering train of thought halted as a twig snapped sharply, and from the sound of it, whoever or whatever had made the disturbance was nearby. Merlin had a sinking feeling that it wasn't an innocent animal. His suspicions unfortunately proved to be correct as the looming figure of Morgana stood atop the stump of a tree, fifteen feet away.

"Dear brother; my, my. How strange I should see you here, so very far away from Camelot. We have been parted for far too long; not even a goodbye uttered the last time we met. And I see you still keep your band of merry men at your side. They may have survived for a few months, but how will they stand against _real_ threats when they aren't even _real_ knights? More importantly, how will you and a pack of six men, most of them inexperienced fighters, challenge _me_?" she ridiculed, hate and aggression etched into every feature of her face.

Arthur questioned with a faint trace of defeat lingering in his voice, "What do you want, Morgana?"

"Want? Arthur, honestly. You should know full well of my intentions now. I want to make you _suffer_, Arthur Pendragon. And I will only be satisfied once I have what is rightfully mine. Speaking of which, how is our beloved father? I've heard he's—rather ill. Some claim I inflicted his madness. Perhaps I should pay him a visit…" Morgana trialed off until Arthur charged at her, infuriated by her words, but the sorceress had expected and wanted this. She paralyzed his running figure temporarily and strode towards him with ease. The other knights and Merlin observed the scene in horror, recognizing that if they took the same approach that Arthur did, they would only receive the same fate.

"Come now, Arthur. We both know that if you could you wouldn't slay me with your blade. You see, that's your problem. You are such a great warrior, and yet," she leaned in, her mouth pressed against the royal's ear adding in a whisper, "You _care_ too much."

Abruptly, Morgana hurled Arthur into a tree ten feet away with just a flick of her wrist, the prince's head colliding with the tough bark. The head hung limply, devoid of any sign of consciousness. The knights, now simply not caring what the sorceress might use against them, rushed at her huddled together with their swords held high, ready to avenge their leader. Merlin meanwhile, hoping the warriors of Camelot would provide a good enough distraction, darted over to Arthur's still form checking his pulse. Thankfully, a steady beat thumped under the servant's finger. But he couldn't possibly be left here. Morgana came here for bloodshed, and that would be granted quite easily if his master lay here unconscious just feet away from her.

Merlin swung Arthur's arm over his shoulder and scurried as swiftly as he could from the battle, his heart pounding in his chest. Managing to escape from bandits like this, without a horse and only one person being unconscious, was a nearly impossible feat. But managing to leave unnoticed by Morgana would be unfeasible once all the knights had fallen, which he was sure would occur soon. Unless…if he could hide the future king. Noting a huge shrubbery perfect for his plan, he practically dragged Arthur over and slid him beneath the undergrowth.

The yells and cries of the knights could be heard in the distance which only meant one thing. They were losing. The warlock couldn't just abandon them for dead, but he also couldn't desert a hidden, unconscious Arthur. But if she was determined, Morgana would find them eventually even if they were concealed. Deciding his answer, Merlin unknotted his neckerchief from around his neck, outstretched the prince's hand from the bush, and placed the scarf in the man's hand. To any passerby, it would look like the arm of a dead knight grasping his flag, and the onlooker would not inspect the matter any further and carry with their business. Those kinds of things were a common sight in this forest. And once Merlin came back for him, if Arthur was still out cold, he would recognize his favorite neckerchief.

"Arthur. I'm coming back for you," he muttered mostly to reassure himself. The servant then dashed to the battle sight, while attempting not to draw attention to his running form. He positioned himself a few yards away from the clearing where the knights fought, so hopefully his magic would go unnoticed. Although, he highly questioned himself about the way to approach this. If he conjured a windstorm and swept Morgana away, not only she but the rest of the knights would realize another sorcerer was near. Perhaps if he enchanted her to become ill, if it was strong enough, it would render her useless and she would be at the knights' mercy. No one would suspect anything of it.

"_Morbus centrum tui ego quendam_—"

A slender arm reached out, tightly wrapping itself around Merlin's waist, almost hugging him to their chest. Before he could protest, a hand forced a foul smelling cloth to his nose and mouth and the arm pulled him farther and farther away from the clearing. He attempted to fight back, release himself from the mysterious captor's constricted embrace, but in trying to do so he had breathed in the chemicals of the cloth. The images of his surroundings blurred, almost as if they were pixelated, but he faintly detected that Morgana had disappeared from the forest and the knights stood, exchanging confused glances. The warlock still struggled for freedom; he would not surrender to his abductor so easily, even if he was slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

A sickeningly sweet voice breathed into his ear, "Merlin, _sleep_. Don't fight it. _Sleep_." He recognized that voice, all too well. It belonged to _Nimueh_. This only fueled his attempts to escape further. But he was so verytired. He thrashed around sluggishly in her grasp; he didn't understand how she was here, but he would not let her win, not this time. Not ever.

"Merlin, did you honestly think we came here for Arthur?" she mocked. "We" meaning plural, implying that Nimueh was associated with Morgana and Morgause. A deadly trio of High Priestesses all whom possessed a grudge against him, one way or another. All whom, combined, would undoubtedly be the death of him.

"Sleep, Merlin. _Sleep_."

His feet collapsed out from under him, exhaustion seeping into every wearied muscle. His body sagged feebly in her grasp. His eyelids drooped, finding no motive to keep batting about. The last thing that reached his ears before the darkness enveloped him was Lancelot and Gwaine calling out his name…

OoO

Arthur's eyes swirled in his sockets, or at least he felt as though they did. Upon awakening, his hand instinctively patted the back of his head to check for injury, and unsurprisingly dry blood matted the area that had rammed into the tree. However, he did not arouse under a tree, like he had expected to. Rather under a bush, it seemed. That meant someone had carried him away from the battle, someone who had cared about his wellbeing.

Not desiring to waste any more time, he crawled out from under the vegetation, only to find that a red cloth had been placed in his other hand that strangely resembled Merlin's neckerchief…

But upon inspecting it, Arthur realized it _was _Merlin's neckerchief. Which meant the idiothad been that someone who had carried him away from the battle. That was typical Merlin though; a strange devotion to the prince embedded within his manservant for some reason to which Arthur did not know and often questioned. Always looking out for him when he couldn't and shouldn't, a loyalty to him so profound and deep, never leaving his side—until now, it appeared. Usually, whenever the royal woke from his brief periods of unconsciousness, his eyes would be met with that goofy grin that he both despised and yet always looked for. It told him he wasn't alone. Why now, did Merlin disappear, leaving him only his stupid neckerchief?

He rose to his feet, brushing various weeds and dirt off his chainmail, and journeyed back to where Morgana and the knights had been, hoping to resolve any conflict remaining there. Harsh yells extended to his ears, not the battle cries a warrior would emit, but rather heated bickering. As Arthur approached the clearing, it grew louder.

"Where did she even go? Morgana was here one minute, and then gone!" Arthur recognized as Elyan's voice.

"Morgana was a distraction. And we were fooled by it," Lancelot responded solemnly.

Leon declared, "We can't be discouraged, there's still hope of finding him. Both of them. Right now our first priority is to find Arthur, then everything else can be settled. Is that clear?"

"There's no need for that. Now is anyone going to tell me what exactly happened here?" the prince interrogated as he finally arrived at the glade.

"Sire!" Leon exclaimed in relief adding, "Where have you been? We've been trying to search for you."

"I believe while I was unconscious Merlin hid me, I woke up minutes ago. Where did Morgana go? Speaking of which, where is Merlin?"

The knights' gaze shifted to their feet, which shuffled uncomfortably under his scrutinizing glare. Gwaine muttered curses under his breath. Lancelot looked outwards, his eyes glassy and almost sorrowful. Leon was the first to speak.

"We were fighting Morgana, and knew we were losing, but focused all our efforts on defeating her. She just stopped for one moment and smiled strangely at us, afterwards vanishing from the clearing. No one knows where she went."

"Where's Merlin, then?" Arthur repeated, more worriedly this time.

Leon sighed, continuing, "We were confused, all of us. Then a couple of twigs snapped at the same time, and we heard muffled cries, as though someone was being dragged across the forest floor. We saw—Merlin… lugged from the clearing by a woman wearing a cloak, she had a cloth pressed to his face. I think she drugged him. Gwaine and Lancelot were the first to notice and raced after them. She was sorceress though and disappeared with a spell, Merlin with her." The knight's voice faltered at the last few words.

"We found this carved into a nearby tree. We think it was left by the sorceress," Elyan announced, stepping in front of Sir Leon and handed a piece of bark over to him. An illustration of a small serpent was painted in red on the surface of the wood, the tail curling up behind the body, and three lines jutted out from the mouth.

"Gaius will know what this mean," Arthur uttered absently, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. One question pounded in his head. _Why? Why Merlin? Why would a sorceress abduct Merlin, of all people?_ He needed to focus though. If Merlin had been kidnapped, he was counting on him. Arthur swore in his mind he would not fail his friend.

He ordered in a stern voice, "We ride back to Camelot immediately," mounting upon his horse, the knights following his example.

"What should we do with Merlin's horse?" Percival inquired tentatively.

"Let it go, bring it back with us; I honestly don't care what you do with it at this point," the to-be-king dismissed, commanding his horse to jaunt at full gallop. Initially, the ride wasted an hour's time on the way here, but he would not be so meticulous about the route they traveled on this time. Hopefully, by doing this, they would cut the stretch of the journey in half.

The only sound that filled the air on the ride back was the clattering hooves of the horses beating against the ground. The only thought occupying their minds was of Merlin. The only feeling that dominated their hearts was utter failure and guilt, consuming each's very being; settling in their lungs and taunting every breath they took. It jeered at Arthur the most.

Upon arriving at Camelot's gates, he practically leapt off his horse, jogged towards the physician's chambers, and nearly burst down the old man's door in impatience and anxiety. Gaius glanced up at him, looking so _innocent_, blissfully ignorant of the happenings of that god forsaken, cursed morning. He even smiled at him. Gods, this was going to be difficult to break down this to him.

"I assume the hunting trip went well? Oh it must have, since you came back so soon. Where is Merlin? I know he might need to attend to some chores for you today, but later in the day I need him to pick a few herbs for a treatment of the skin that I've been working on. Can you relay the message to him?" He stared blankly at the court member, finding that his ability to form words in his mouth no longer functioned at that moment. Sensing this, the physician lowered him into a chair and offered him a warm drink, which he readily accepted; not minding as the scalding liquid poured down his aching throat.

"What happened, Sire?"

"We, we were attacked by Morgana in the forest. The knights and I fought her, but she disappeared suddenly without an explanation. We then noticed Merlin was being dragged away from the battle sight by a woman, one I didn't know, but she was a sorceress since she also vanished—with Merlin. The sorceress left this though, engraved in a tree," he explained, handing the piece of bark over to Gaius. "Do you know what it means?"

"I know _who _it means. I would've thought it impossible but—" Gaius began, stopping short.

"But what? Gaius?" Arthur queried.

The physician shook his head and rubbed at his temples, confessing, "Arthur, there is something about Merlin that I should have told you about long ago." The young ruler stared intently after those words tumbled from his lips, pondering over their meaning. What had Gaius hidden from him?

As the old man was about to open his mouth once more, Gwen rushed in through the door, tears forming in her eyes. Streaks of crimson daubed the white around her irises, and her hands fidgeted in a frantic manner.

"Arthur! Lancelot told me about Merlin. Are, are you going to search for him? Have you found any clues that might lead you to him?" she questioned in a shaky voice that wavered between suppressed concern now exposed and also accusation, that the maid didn't quite trust him to handle this situation well enough on his own. He grasped her hands in his own.

"Guinevere, I am going to find Merlin. Trust me. Now, I need you to attend to my father since I can't right now. Can you do that for me?" he asked of her softly and full of patience.

Gwen nodded her head hurriedly but before departing the room offered to Gaius, "If you need anything—"

"I'll know where to find you," the physician finished for her warmly, and she slipped out the door.

"You were saying before, Gaius? About Merlin?" Arthur probed as soon as she left.

"I think that we both agree that Merlin is extremely dedicated to you, perhaps too much for his own good; but he never takes himself into consideration. Do you remember when the Questing Beast bit you, a few years ago?" He nodded in response once. His recovery was hailed miraculous at the time; many celebrating in the name of the prince that survived the bite from the ghastly beast that would have ensured his death. "The bite from the beast was fatal. You should've died."

The leader of Camelot interrupted, "But I didn't. You cured me."

"I told your father I could do nothing for you, and that was true. Merlin was distressed too at the time, and begged for an answer for a cure. I revealed I knew one, but one that was particularly dangerous and risky. Still, he insisted upon knowing it. I told him that he would have to travel to the Isle of the Blessed, where the Cup of Life resided. But I warned him that the Cup and it powers were controlled by the High Priest and Priestesses who honored the code of the Old Religion; that being a price must be paid in order to receive what is desired. That night, he rode out, taking no heed of my advice, and bargained with the High Priestess Nimueh."

"Merlin consorted with sorcerers? What did he bargain with her? What is it money, information on Camelot?" he interrogated apprehensively.

"He bargained his life. The price for bringing back a life is a life taken in return. Therefore, Merlin offered up his life willingly for yours. He returned from the Isle of the Blessed with the cure, and I administered it to you. Once I learned of his actions, I couldn't let his life be taken. I am so very old, and Merlin's life was just beginning. I went to the Isle of the Blessed and arranged a deal with Nimueh so that my life would be sacrificed in Merlin's place. Merlin found out about my escapade, and went to stop Nimueh from killing me, but he was too late to do so. In his rage at seeing me dead, he…killed the High Priestess himself," Gaius finished.

He requested incredulously, "Merlin _killed_ a High Priestess of the Old Religion? _How_?"

"I shouldn't know. I was dead for most of it, Sire. By killing Nimueh, the Old Religion accepted the end of her life as the sacrifice and I was brought back to the world of living. If it hadn't been for Merlin's actions, one of us would not be here today."

The thought of Merlin murdering someone unsettled him; as hard as he tried to imagine it, his brain refused to process it, unwilling to cooperate. Sure, the serving boy had most likely run a bandit through on one of their unfortunate, hijacked hunting trips, but this was rare occurrence; often times he would find the coward behind a tree.

However, killing a High Priestess of the Old Religion was no small feat. His father in previous years talked of them; speaking in great lengths of the strenuous efforts taken to kill them and that the sorceresses exemplified the corrupt nature of magic. It was a topic Arthur did not care to dwell on. The king had spoken about magic as though it was epidemic needed to be extinguished; for fear that its presence would light Camelot into flames and create the greatest debacle the kingdom would ever face. Admittedly, Arthur at some points found himself troubled over his father's insatiable lust for the death of these sorcerers.

He snapped himself out of his contemplations, asking, "What does this Nimueh have to do with the symbol we found? What does she have to do with Merlin's disappearance?"

"It is the symbol of Nimueh. It could not be forged or copied by any sorceress, this is her mark. At this time, I can only conclude that she has been resurrected, somehow. I fear that she has come to exact her revenge on Merlin, and if this is true—I fear for what will become of him. So please, for Merlin's sake, not mine: find him," the elder confided in him, his last words barely above a whisper.

The knight, discovering that nothing he could say would comfort or ease the burden of the man who'd lost his ward, merely nodded in acknowledgement of his request and headed out the door. He pushed past the fellow knights, all of them asking him questions which his ears chose to block out.

Merlin, blasted Merlin! None of this would have occurred had the idiot not consorted with a sorceress; a crime in Camelot punishable by death! But he had done it to _save_ _him_. _"If it hadn't been for Merlin's actions, one of us would not be here today."_ And where was he to start searching for him? The only inkling of knowledge about this case provided to him was the identity of the kidnapper and her possible intentions for his manservant that caused his blood to boil in anger. She planned on punishing an innocent soul for a crime he committed onto her years ago for _Arthur's_ sake. This is what forged an iron chain around his already burdened heart and what caused his warriors' inquiries to fall upon his deaf ears, simply not wishing to tune in to hear their cries, their demands, their accusations.

He stalked into his chambers, slamming the door behind him. A parchment on his personal desk flickered in the strong breeze; he noted that said parchment was his draft to the council about the bloody aqueduct system. His deadline scheduled for this afternoon. Of all the things _this_ had to be first on his list of priorities. His hand grasped the quill lying astray on the desk, dipped it in the ink, and pressed the sharp tip to the vellum to start on the tedious, trivial document. Nonetheless, his hand rebuffed the act to move, triggering ink to drip from the apex of his quill onto the draft, splotching the majority of the words previously scribed.

"…_come to exact her revenge on Merlin, and if this is true—I fear for what will become of him." _

_Merlin dead; lying atop a hilltop, abandoned for any observer to pass his decaying remains. Face convulsed, lips blue, eyes void of anything except pain now relinquished from his throbbing soul. A slow and agonizing poisoning wreaked upon his body for days until his system finally decided to shut down. This Nimueh would enjoy witnessing this torture inflicted on her prisoner. Or perhaps instead of that, blood smeared his brown jacket and a sword pierced through the boy's abdomen. Bandits hired to kill him; ensuring that his death would be a cruel one. No, that would too easy, too effortless for her liking. Or maybe his body would not be maimed at all, some spell casted upon him that instigated immediate death. This option crushed the prince's heart the most. The fact that Merlin wouldn't even have a fighting chance against her…_

Arthur noticed that his quill had punctured through the paper and created a small hole where the ink bled through, staining the desk in the process. Cursing, he flipped the article over hoping to actually reach his deadline without the assistance some pitiful excuse that allowed him more time to write the damned thing.

"_So please, for Merlin's sake, not mine: find him." _

If they found him—_when_ they found him the future king corrected himself—if the idiot wasn't dead already what state would he be in by the time they arrived?

_Merlin shivering in the corner of a dirty cell, clutching at his jacket for the little warmth given. As he stretched his hand to help him up, the boy shuddered at his touch and turned his back upon him, too scared to display his face in the blinding light of the sun. There were fates worse than death, Arthur reminded himself._

"_You failed me, Arthur," Gaius's voice echoed in his mind adding, "If you cannot prevail in completing a simple task asked of an old man, how do you expect to run a kingdom?" _He tried to apologize over and over again but his voice did not challenge that of the Court Physician's, no matter how hard he attempted it to.

"_I can't risk losing you for the sake of some serving boy," his father stated to him. The son remembered this conversation, it occurring when Merlin had been poisoned by the drink in the chalice. _

"_Oh, because his life's worthless?" he had retorted back. _

_Uther replied in a callous tone, "No, because it's worth less than yours." _

"_Why do you care so much? The boy is just a servant," his father demanded of him at a later point. _

So many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted people to know, but no words became articulated out of his silenced mouth.

"_Why do care so much so much? Why do care so much so much? Why do care so much so much?" _voices repeated in head over and over and over again all belonging to different people he'd met; his father, Gaius, Gwen, the knights, lords, ladies, everyone—including Merlin. _"The boy is just a servant. The boy is just a servant. The boy is just a servant." _The same alternating voices pounded into his head. _"You're the future king. I'm just a servant. You're the future king. I'm just a servant._ _You're the future king. I'm just a servant." _He clutched at his temples in an attempt to just make them _stop_; stop criticizing him, stop faulting him for all his decisions, stop placing him into a position of almighty power _when he didn't even deserve it_.

Arthur crumpled the ink blotched parchment and tossed clear over to the other side of the room in his frustration, not minding as all chances to finish this speech on time dimmed to no way possible.

"_I had no idea you were so keen to die for me." _

Merlin was going to be the death of him.

**He-he, going to stop there. I know I haven't updated in a couple weeks, but hopefully the long ten page chapter made up for the delay (I hope). I know Arthur kind of had a mental breakdown there, but really he's being haunted by the voices of his past and by the images he's picturing of what will happen to Merlin; all the while blaming himself for Merlin's disappearance. I know it's kind of weird, but I wanted to show Arthur's perspective on it first. **

**Also, when Gaius was telling the story about Merlin killing Nimueh, I left out the part about Hunith dying since that probably would have confused Arthur more. We're going to see some Merlin and Nimueh interaction next chapter, I can promise you guys that. Well, I hope you guys liked this chapter and please review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, I'm back! I know you guys have been waiting for the whole Merlin/Nimueh interaction, so I forced myself to sit down at my computer and finally write this. **

**Chapter Four**

Oblivion encompassed his being. A preferable alternative to what he imagined awaited him, so he contently lied in the everlasting tunnel of blackness simply not caring about anything; his mind as empty as this obscure void where he resided. Nothingness happened to be a paradise. No obligations, responsibilities, no more of the duties that sewed him permanently into Camelot's very roots. Rest, relief from the inner turmoil that constantly slithered in and out of the crevices of his mind. However, oblivion soon found him not a suitable resident, as it did with all, and thrust him back into the light of his cruel reality.

Merlin's eyelids fluttered open, much to his displeasure, and he awoke to a blazing golden hue blurring his vision. He blinked several times to clear his eyes of its blinding glow. Sunlight. It was nothing more than sunlight. He had grown so accustomed to the dark in his state of unconsciousness that the rays of the sun appeared unfamiliar to him at first. Though sunlight could only enter a room through an opening, or through transparent material. Which meant, most likely, there was a window.

The warlock then recognized a chaffing sort of feeling, the sort of feeling one would only receive from manacles, and unsurprisingly he discovered metal chains encircling his wrists. Wasn't that to be expected? What wasn't to be expected was the plush fabric he sensed right beneath his back. Was he lying on a…bed? Surely enough, as he lifted his neck to gaze beyond the sight of his boots, the young man spotted a quilt just ahead of his toes. The whole room itself, while dreary with multiple, aged cobwebs coating some walls, oddly enough resembled a bedroom suite unattended to for years, modestly furnished. A wooden chair was tucked back in the corner collecting dust, a small writing desk off to the side, and for the glass pane windows the curtains had been pulled aside permitting the sun access, also covered with grime. He had been _abducted_ by an acrimonious enemy of his, three to be exact, so Merlin had fully anticipated based on the scenario to be locked up in a tight prison cell, shackled. Or to already be dead. In other words, he had been thrown off guard. And that unnerved him. More than he cared to admit.

He was about to swing his legs over the mattress, intent on accessing the room in its entirety in order to find any possible weaknesses, until the door opened of its own accord in stepping the sorceress the servant despised. She remained the same in appearance as the last time he saw of her. Brunette, intricate braids rested on her shoulders, a devious smirk played on her ruby lips, and her bright sapphire irises bored into his own. Confidently, the High Priestess strode across the room and sat herself down at his bedside.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to wake up. You've been out for at least a day," Nimueh started up casually as if she had the audacity to speak as though they were friends. "Enjoying your stay? I reserved the best room for you. I want you to know you should consider yourself a guest here."

Merlin scoffed and spat, "And these? What would you _consider_ these as?" while he jangled the chains slightly.

Her smirk dimmed considerably as she answered, "A precaution. I know you."

"I can't say the same of you. What is _this_? Why haven't you killed me yet? I thought you would have struck at the opportune moment when I was caught unawares. Or I suppose, you want to ensure I suffer the most agonizing retribution."

"Not necessarily," she responded.

Choosing to ignore her puzzling reply he interrogated snidely, "How did you come back? I have a general idea, but enlighten me."

His thoughts wandered back to the vivid dream he just experienced a few nights ago; Morgana, the young unknown man, the knife that pierced his heart, his sickeningly crimson-stained tunic, the lake, the enigmatic medallion, and that smug smile directed at him still etched in his mind. The wizard noticed that Nimueh wore the latter two items he remembered from the nightmare of his that turned into reality.

"A human sacrifice. You know the laws of the Old Religion," the Priestess replied.

"Far too well for my liking," he muttered darkly and added in a louder more imposing voice, "Did you even know his name?"

Her brow scrunched up in confusion. "How is his _name_ of any consequence to me?"

"Maybe because he's the man that saved you from eternal damnation, although I can't fathom why he did."

"He is insignificant in the matter," she stated calmly.

Merlin attempted in vain not to repulse at her callousness. "You're working with Morgana. There's only one reason she'd ever put up with someone else, she's too proud. What did you promise her? My death, unlimited power, Camelot? Or let me guess: all of the above."

"I only promised her what she deserves. Her title as Queen of Camelot," Nimueh confessed.

"Oh, of course. So the rest are left up to you, _but_—she doesn't know that, does she?"

Her smile reappeared at this. "She may be a High Priestess, but she is naïve and too eager for power than for her own good. Persuading her was as simple as incenting a child with the promise of sweets," she remarked.

He countered, "I wouldn't be so arrogant about her if I were you. She'll figure you out eventually, if she hasn't already. She's been betrayed far too many times to be deceived again."

"And I heard you were one of the many who did so to her," the sorceress retorted curtly.

The servant heaved a sigh heavily laced with an air of defeat. "Well, you can cross off one thing on your list. You have me here, at your mercy. You want me dead, you have for a while now, why don't you just do it already?"

She raised an eyebrow in interest, and lifted her hand slightly. He acknowledged the fact that just by conversing the way he did with her, he had probably brought about his doom earlier than it would have come in the first place. So Merlin closed his eyes, bracing himself for the insurmountable surge of pain undoubtedly awaiting him. Would a knife plunge through his heart? Would she shatter his skull in two? Or would she send him crashing through the glass pane window, and upon impact of the fall snap his neck? And afterwards Gaius would gaze at his still, lifeless form just as Merlin had with his years ago.

A more disturbing thought struck him. Would anyone even find him, or attempt to? Of course they would, he reassured himself. After all, Arthur needed _someone_ to put up with his abhorring attitude, along with his often tornado-wrecked looking chambers. He was only man in Camelot, he believed, that fit those qualifications set by Prince Prat.

However no lethal blow was delivered; or at least, it didn't feel like it had been. The warlock cracked an eyelid open, surveying the room to find that the scene had not altered at all. He still lay on the bed, and Nimueh eyed him with an amused grin.

"You're afraid of my _every_ move. Normally I would revel in knowing that, but I have no more time for games. We have important business to discuss."

"_Business_? What _business_ could I possibly have to discuss with _you_?" he asked with a tone of disgust.

Hand still hovering in the air, she hissed to the wind, "_Refoveo mei sapor. Adducer mihi occasus_ _bibere ab occasus filiolus_."

Two goblets appeared on the small beside table to his right along with a wine bottle. With a flick of her wrist, the bottle uncorked itself and poured wine into both chalices, and set itself back down.

"Are you thirsty?" the Priestess inquired while grasping her own goblet.

He spoke nothing to her, but his answer was indicated by the involuntary smacking of his lips; an act of desperation to relieve his dry throat. She'd claimed that he hadn't been up for at least a day since his abduction, _at least _being the key word in the sentence, and therefore drinking water hadn't been a priority of his at the time.

"Would you care for some wine then?" she questioned.

"No," was his brisk reply.

"You puzzle me Merlin, in more ways than one. You are thirsty, yet you deny drink. You offered your life up as a sacrifice, and protested against another being taken in your place."

"That was not up to you to decide," he snapped.

"Onto business then, I suppose. I have a proposition of sorts for you, Merlin. The same proposition I proposed to you five years ago, changed slightly. You help me put Morgana on the throne, and then the world is ours to control."

The servant stared at her unblinking for a few moments, and the next thing he knew he was reeling his head back; his throat emitting an airy, coarse, bitter-filled chuckle. The idea in itself was comical! He helping Morgana to the title of Queen, when he had dethroned her three months ago!

Merlin declared, "You think I would _ever_ help you? And you thought that I would agree to betray Arthur? Maybe you've forgotten why I went to the Isle of the Blessed and made that deal with you, but I have not. You should know I would never betray Arthur, not for anyone. Especially not for you or Morgana. I'd rather die."

Her sneer grew. "I know you would."

His proud smile faltered.

"You see Merlin, I've figured you out. You do not fear death. An admirable trait, it may get you far if you were a knight on a battlefield. But you are not. You have other fears, unique fears that do not plague the minds of common mortals, fears only known to those who have cared to witness life—and death. Fear of rejection. Fear of loss. Fear of persecution. Fear of the deaths of others.

But most of all Merlin, what I think is your deepest fear that you won't admit, is your fear of not knowing. Ever since you arrived in Camelot, ever since you discovered your supposed destiny, your life has been written out for you. If it were ever to become slightly unhinged, your world would crumble around you. If you hadn't been told you were meant to protect Arthur, do you think you would have saved his life from that knife? You're squandering your magic over some supercilious prince that will become king and die eventually, just as they all do, and where will you be?

And that fear of yours, of that unknowing, doesn't it itch at your very being every day when you save that Pendragon's life, not knowing whether when he does ascend to the throne that he will return magic to the lands? Ensure magic returns to the kingdom; if that is you truly wish. Choose _your own_ destiny."

Her words hit him. Hard. Because she was right about his fears, how they burdened him so, and yet he had not a clue about hers. This meant she obtained leverage over him. Although despite that speech of hers, one aspect about it remained untrue. He would have saved Arthur from the knife, even if he hadn't known about what they were destined to create.

In fact, when Kilgharrah had spoken to him about Arthur in that first meeting, the young sorcerer found himself more determined _not_ to follow the dragon's instructions, just to do it in spite. Frankly, he would have saved any man from that knife. And gradually, as time progressed, both servant and master understood each other more and more; realization dawning upon the pair that the other's outer shell was a mere façade to their true selves. These thoughts provided him the courage to detest Nimueh once more.

"How can I ensure magic returns to the kingdom while you're still alive? Who sparked Uther's hate for magic? Who set off a chain reaction that resulted in a vile discrimination that's lasted a generation, on both sides? Whose actions sentenced hundreds of innocent sorcerers to an undeserved, cruel damnation? It all leads back to you, _everything_. Every magical siege brought about by animosity for Uther, everyone's worries about the purge for some that drove them mad, every beheading and execution—it's all on you. And I bet that's something else Morgana doesn't know about you. You are the cause of a civil war that's nearly been the death of Camelot countless times!"

"And _I_ am cause of _Arthur's_ birth!"

A chilling silence settled over the room.

The sorceress rose from her seat, setting her wine glass down, and wandered over towards the door.

"I'll give you some time to reconsider your decision," she spoke quietly.

He proclaimed, "You underestimate Arthur…and me. Arthur will become a great king, far greater than you could possibly imagine, and as long as that stays true I will never betray him to be toyed with the likes of you."

"Perhaps that is true," she responded thoughtfully, "but perhaps that is what you have been taught."

The High Priestess slipped out the door and from his sight, but her words were never forgotten.

OoO

A groan escaped his mouth as a small, unfamiliar hand violently shook his shoulder; snapping him out of his rather restless sleep. Arthur blinked a couple of times to spot a young boy, no older than ten, standing before him impatiently holding a breakfast tray in one hand and an apple in another.

"Who are you?" he asked incredulously.

"Your new manservant, _Sire_," the boy responded dully and added, "Breakfast, _Sire_?"

"Yes I suppose so," the prince answered dismissively and the tray was dropped unceremoniously onto the blanket covering his lap. "Hold on a second. Is that my apple you're holding in your hand?"

"Yeah. You got a problem with that?"

The rude serving boy then proceeded to bite into the fruit, a resounding crunch echoing throughout the room. Arthur shook his head, used to ill-mannered people all too well, and started on what breakfast was still left on the tray.

The royal inquired, "Do you have a name?"

"Of course I have a name, who doesn't? It's Marvin."

He was pretty sure for a second he choked on one of his sausages. A day had passed since that cursed hunting trip, and no one had yet dared to mention Mer—that idiot's name after his talk with Gaius. Of course on the inside, Arthur's mind had been raging through hysterics, and he had almost convinced himself that his manservant had driven him to the depths of insanity. He had drawn up numerous plans, recovered maps, plotted rescue missions…all which he eventually tore up and started anew on a fresh sheet of parchment.

Where could he even begin? For a start, he wasn't even bloody conscious for when this Nimueh kidnapped his servant, so he knew nothing of her appearance! Nor did he have a clue of where to start the search. Where would a sorceress dwell anyway? To be honest, it seemed as if they all came to him.

So one question popped up immediately in his head at the announcement of this servant boy's name. Who had the _gall_ to assign _this _boy, with _this _name so very similar to his friend's who could be very well be dea—injured… mildly injured, to be his servant?

"Marvin, is it?"

"Yeah," he replied boringly.

"You're dismissed from your duties. Permanently. Now get out," the prince ordered.

Before exiting the room however Marvin muttered, "Huh. Suppose that Merlin bloke was right about him being a prat."

"_Out_!"

The door quickly slammed shut, but even so Arthur chucked a plate at it for good measure.

It was bad enough Merlin persisted in haunting his dreams.

He didn't need him to haunt his life.

**That's where I'm going to stop! Merlin and Nimueh; they didn't exactly hit it off, did they? There's a bit of unsettled tension between the two of them, but soon it won't just be back and forth bitter banter between the two of them. **

**By the way, I have the translation for the spell Nimueh used to conquer the wine. It means "**_**Refresh my tastes. Bring me the drink of the gods.**_**" **

**Funny enough, I got this idea when I was thinking about the original Arthurian legends and the actual show Merlin and I was pondering over Nimueh's character. In the legends (or at least most of the tales anyway) she seduces Merlin and sometimes even ends up killing him, or more often he gets trapped in a cave or something. I know that they sort of did that in the Poisoned Chalice, but we got like five to ten minutes of that kind of interaction between them. **

**A lot of you want me to do a love triangle with Merlin, Nimueh, and Morgana and upon looking at the idea I'm seriously considering it. Except Nimueh and Morgana will not be madly in love with each other. XD**

**Poor, poor Arthur. I'm going to explain the whole 'Merlin haunting his dreams' thing next chapter. Am I a sadistic person for loving to psychologically torment my characters? Maybe… **

**Hope you guys liked Marvin! I was going to do George until I realized that he doesn't show up until season four, so I made my own OC servant who was like the complete opposite of George in every way. **

**Wow, this is getting to be an**_** extremely**_** long author's note. Sorry, I tend to digress. But I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please review! **


End file.
